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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154167">Looking Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>13 Cameras (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, Friends With Benefits, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:53:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Months ago, Ryan made a decision that saved his life. Now he lives with the other consequences.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul/Ryan (13 Cameras)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over the past few months, Ryan had learned how shitty life could get for a newlywed. Everything had started with a cross-country move from New York to Southern California. Then he’d had to deal with Hannah, the obsessive assistant he’d hired to help him with his new business. His marriage had gone further downhill because Claire had discovered the affair. To top it all off, his previous landlord Gerald had been a total creep and likely played a role in his wife's disappearance.</p><p>Every detail of that night was still clear. Ryan had arrived at home to find Claire waiting for him outside in the dark. She’d pointed at a tiny hole above the front door, claiming that a camera lens was hidden there, but he hadn’t been able to see one. Maybe the hole had just been part of the security system. Maybe the lease had mentioned something about it. He’d offered to check, but she’d told him to go. Then he’d offered to stay for the night and she’d refused, preferring the company of her friend Audry. Her phone hadn’t been working, so he’d called on her behalf. Once Audry had arrived, he’d left to rent a hotel room.</p><p>Hours later, guilt had brought him back to the house. He should have been more persistent by saying he would stay on the couch. Only his dog, Baron, had been there to greet him. What had happened to Claire? She wouldn’t have just walked out, not with an unborn baby and no job to support herself. And what about Audry? 
</p><p>Her husband, Paul, happened to be Ryan’s friend. Or used to be. Ryan hadn’t seen him for a while either, and during the few phone calls, Paul had seemed distant. At least he was alive.</p><p>The cops hadn’t done much to investigate. They’d went to the house, discovered nothing unusual, talked with Ryan regarding his suspicions about the landlord, and concluded there was no evidence to charge Gerald with anything. Three women had gone missing, the third being Hannah who must have paid a surprise visit on that same night. Now Ryan was left with a boring routine of work, eat, sleep. And beer. Taking a long swig, he finished off the last bottle and put it beside the other two on the coffee table.</p><p>This dingy bachelor apartment was a lot different from the bungalow, but it suited him fine. No girlfriend, no parties, and no visitors except for a few cops. The most pathetic part was that he wasn’t missing Claire as much as he should. He wanted her to be found of course; it was disgusting to think of that old creep putting his hands on her, and he hoped her absence was something less sinister than murder or kidnapping. But most of all, he missed Paul, who’d also moved to California in search of greener pastures. With him, there hadn’t been constant bickering and nagging. Just two guys that understood the stresses of married life and appreciated the occasional beers and barbecues together.</p><p>Ryan sighed and flipped through the channels, turning them into a blur of colors. He wasn’t the most attractive guy around, but he could go to any bar and hook up with someone. What was stopping him? More guilt maybe. Claire could still be alive and here he was, spending his nights getting buzzed. He hadn’t filed for divorce, despite being eligible to bypass many of the formalities because of her missing status. On the other hand, she could be dead and life had to go on. He hadn’t really wanted to get married anyway. His mom was the old-fashioned sort and had pressured him into doing it after she’d learned of Claire’s pregnancy.</p><p>His stomach churned as he turned the TV off and tossed the remote onto the table. A better husband would have searched every inch of California for Claire. He would probably never see her again. Same with his son or daughter. Sure, she’d been annoying at times, but he’d had his share of bad moments too. The worst was his decision to cheat on her. If he hadn’t, then he would have been at the house instead of the hotel. He might have been able to prevent whatever had happened.</p><p>He reached for an empty bottle, wanting to see if there was even a single drop left. A knock made him withdraw his hand and freeze. Who could it be? The knocking got louder until he finally walked to the door and opened it.</p><p>“Paul? What are you doing here?”</p><p>With his dark eyes and hair, stubble, and lean build, he looked the same as ever. But after months of not seeing him, it was still strange.</p><p>“Look, uh...” Paul hefted the case of beer in his hands. “It's been a while. Thought we could catch up.”</p><p>“Oh, sure.” Ryan stepped aside and gestured to the coffee table. “You can put the beer on there.”</p><p>As Paul entered the dimly-lit apartment, there were no words of praise. No “nice place” or “I like what you did in here.” Just silence and darting eyes that noticed the ancient fridge and stove, tiny table and single chair, messy computer desk, dog sleeping on a chewed mat in the corner, beaten-up wardrobe, and couch that functioned as a bed. He lowered the case onto the coffee table and plunked himself down on the couch.</p><p>“You got a bottle opener?”</p><p>“Don’t need one.”</p><p>Ryan sat beside him and slid a beer out of the case. Gripping the neck, he positioned the edge of the cap on top of the table and slammed his other hand down. It only took one try for the cap to fly off, and Paul accepted the bottle with a raised eyebrow. His gaze darted to the scratched table, which had been pristine a few months ago.</p><p>“You sell the rest of your furniture?”</p><p>“Yeah. I put the money on the loan.”</p><p>Paul nodded slowly. “Right, for your storage business. Going good?”</p><p>“I’m in the red every month.”</p><p>Ryan opened a bottle for himself and took a swig of the warm beer. It did nothing to fight the summer heat pouring through the open window, but it would help take his mind off his troubles.</p><p>“Any word about Claire?” Paul asked.</p><p>“Nah. Audry?”</p><p>Paul sighed heavily. “I think the cops gave up on her. Haven't talked with them in months.”</p><p>His sigh was echoed by Ryan. “You and me both.”</p><p>Starting with the move to California, a string of bad decisions had led him to this point of drinking his troubles away. Before he knew it, the empty bottle was on the table and a full one was in his hand. The fifth tonight. By now, the living room was starting to spin, sweat was dripping down his face, and fog was eating his mind. That didn’t stop him from finishing this bottle too. It fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor as he slumped back.</p><p>Paul set his bottle on the table. “You should get to bed. Not looking so good.”</p><p>“I’m already there,” Ryan mumbled.</p><p>He wasn’t sure why, but his hand found its way onto Paul’s thigh. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he just needed to touch someone after these lonely months. Paul stiffened, but made no move to lift the hand off.</p><p>“You’re not thinking straight, man.”</p><p>Ryan chuckled awkwardly and averted his blurry eyes. “No, I’m not.”</p><p>His face got hotter and he couldn’t blame it on being drunk. What the hell was he doing? This was a great way to get Paul to leave and never come back. Ryan tried to return his hand to his lap, but he was stopped by a firm grip around his wrist.</p><p>“I gotta be honest, I didn’t come here just to catch up.” Paul released his wrist and stared into space. “I've been thinking a lot. How you used to drive all the way to Cali just so we could watch the game, eat some wings, hit the bars... I missed it, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Another chuckle left Ryan. “So are we gonna like, make out now?”</p><p>Paul smiled slightly, the first since he’d arrived. “You’re drunk as hell. Sleep it off.” He stood up and walked to the door, showing no signs of impairment from the beer. Only a quarter was missing from his bottle. He paused with his hand on the knob and glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll, uh... we’ll talk later.”</p><p>Before leaving, he locked the knob. His soft footsteps travelled down the short hallway and then the stairs leading to the ground floor. Just like that, he was gone, seeming to have left only minutes after arriving.</p><p>Ryan was too far gone to feel anything other than mild disappointment at Paul’s absence. He staggered his way to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and made it back to the sofa, where he collapsed. Hopefully this mess would be forgotten by the morning.</p>
<hr/><p>In the two days that followed, there weren’t any surprise visits or even a phone call. He drove to work, logged the storage bookings, harassed customers over non-payment of rent, got harassed by bill collectors, and dragged himself back to his apartment at night. But on the third day, Paul’s silver car was parked in front of the building, and Ryan felt a surge of excitement as he jogged inside. He slowed to a stop at the strange sight in front of his apartment door. Paul had a stack of flattened boxes in his hands.</p><p>“What are those for?”</p><p>“You'll need them if you ever get out of this dump.” Paul looked at the peeling paint and the spiders in the corners of the hallway. “Seriously, man. You gotta find something better.”</p><p>Ryan shrugged as he unlocked the door. “Can’t afford much better.”</p><p>Once inside, he tossed his keys and wallet onto the kitchen table on his way to the fridge. A moldy brick of cheese, half-empty jug of milk with chunks, and various condiments were the only things inside. He hadn’t expected anything different, considering he hadn’t gone shopping in two weeks, but another part of him had hoped for a miracle. Tonight would be the usual fare: a microwaveable pasta meal. There were still a few boxes in the freezer.</p><p>“Forget that nasty shit. I’ll order something.”</p><p>Paul was sitting on the lone chair with his phone in hand, already dialing, and Ryan nodded his agreement. It had been months since he’d eaten a decent meal. Most of his small budget went toward beer and the cheapest convenience food, and this reminded him of how he’d gone from everything to nothing. Would things ever start looking up for him? In a flash, he just wanted to drown himself in a drunken haze, even though it meant suffering the next morning.</p><p>“I’m gonna take a shower while we wait.”</p><p>The bathroom was only a few steps away, resembling more of a closet. Ryan left the door slightly open, trusting his friend to respect his privacy. Or maybe Paul wouldn’t respect it. That wouldn’t be so bad... he seemed to be lonely too. Wait, what?</p><p>Ryan shook his head in disbelief as he started to unbutton his shirt. Sure, he’d fooled around a bit in college, but he’d never identified as bisexual. It had been simple experimentation under the influence of alcohol. What was his excuse now? A straight guy wouldn’t fantasize about another guy seeing him naked.</p><p>“Ryan? Got some Chinese on the way.”</p><p>His stomach growled on cue. “Sounds great!”</p><p>The prospect of food made his shirt, jeans, socks, and shoes fly off. He jumped into the shower and was out of the bathroom within minutes, a towel wrapped around his hips. Paul didn’t look up, still sitting at the kitchen table, and Ryan didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as he opened the wardrobe. It was probably better this way. Friends like him were hard to come by, and he didn’t want more of that awkwardness from three nights ago.</p><p>He grabbed a random pair of shorts and t-shirt from the wardrobe and brought them back to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. This joint didn’t even have a towel rack, so he hung it from the shower rod and then got dressed. His old clothes were tossed into the hamper, one of the few things he’d salvaged from the house.</p><p>Now it was time to play the waiting game while his stomach continued to complain. He sat on the couch and eyed the stack of boxes near Paul’s feet. Nice of him to have brought them, but there was seemingly no end to the debt that kept piling up. Ryan didn’t anticipate being able to leave this apartment in the near future. He shouldn't have moved here or started the stupid business, despite the high cost of living in New York.</p><p>“It’ll get better. Trust me.”</p><p>Paul seemed to sense the internal debate that happened every night without fail. Ryan wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t manage more than a half-hearted shrug. Luckily there was something that could take his mind off things, and it wasn't beer. It was a knock on the door. He started to get up, but Paul was already striding there, determined to be a good friend who wasn’t deserved. Money and food exchanged hands and then he brought a plastic bag to the coffee table.</p><p>Cartons of sweet and sour chicken balls, chicken fried rice, and egg rolls were removed by Paul. In the meantime, Ryan got two plates, forks, and glasses from the kitchen. He helped himself to half of each container while Paul poured the coke with a grin, and dinner was eaten in silence. Well, devoured in Ryan’s case, and his snarfing wasn’t exactly quiet. There was also a whining dog that got a few handouts. Ryan emptied his plate and glass long before Paul did, and by then, he couldn’t even look at the leftover food. He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his stomach, which had lost the extra pound or two of fat that it used to have. He still didn’t have Paul’s abs, but he was feeling more confident about his body.</p><p>“Hope you have room for dessert.”</p><p>Ryan’s eyes flew open and he chuckled at the tiny fortune cookie that Paul offered him. “Yeah, I think I can manage.” He cracked it open and removed the strip of paper. “A fresh start will put you on your way... huh.” He rolled his eyes and flicked the paper away. “So much for that fresh start. Look where it got me.”</p><p>Paul did the same with his cookie. “A good friendship is often more important than a passionate romance.” He grinned again. “I dunno, man, it’s hard to control myself when I’m sitting next to the talk of the town.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, the chicks are lining up at my door.” Ryan popped a piece of cookie into his mouth. “There’s actually a waiting list.”</p><p>“Got any room for me?” Paul asked innocently, making crumbs fall out of Ryan’s mouth.</p><p>“Uh, well, I...”</p><p>“Relax.” Paul thumped him on the shoulder. “Just playin’ with you.”</p><p>The matter was dropped as Paul ate his cookie, and Ryan distracted himself by eating the other half of his own. The distraction didn’t last long, not with such a puny dessert. Before his thoughts could wander in an awkward direction, Ryan turned the TV on. There wasn’t a lot of interesting stuff to watch at eight o’clock on a Friday, so he had to suffer through a talent show. Paul stuck around, chuckling and shaking his head at the delusional people who made fools of themselves. An hour and a half passed and then the next episode’s preview was being shown, promising more craziness.</p><p>“Well, I better get back. Got some client files to work on before I hit the sack.” Paul heaved himself off the couch and gestured to the mess of cartons and dishes on the table. “You need any help?”</p><p>“Nah, I got it. Thanks for coming.”</p><p>“No prob. Had a good time, just like the old days.” Paul walked to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. He glanced over his shoulder. “You might wanna start packing this weekend.”</p><p>Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”</p><p>“Because you’re moving in. The house is emptier with Audry gone.”</p><p>The door opened and closed before Ryan could form a response, and it took a brief moment for him to snap out of his trance. He looked around the dingy apartment he’d called home for the past few months. Then he smiled, finally seeing some light as his eyes settled on the moving boxes that rested on the floor. This didn’t feel like the beginning of a passionate romance, but it was something. Maybe just two lonely guys finding comfort wherever they could, and that was enough for him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Remember when I joked about the taste of your dick?”</p><p>They were sitting in Paul’s backyard one night and drinking beer when the question came out of nowhere. Ryan froze, his bottle resting on his thigh. Yeah, he remembered. The conversation had taken place at the old rental house that belonged to the creepy landlord. Back then, there had been no end to the marriage problems with Claire, and Paul had told him to stop trying so hard. If he stopped trying, then Claire wouldn’t have to keep pretending that she liked the taste of his dick. </p><p>“So, uh... what about it?” Ryan asked.</p><p>He’d been living at Paul’s house for a few weeks and the conversations had never taken a sexual tone. Just innocent questions about whether he’d found a girlfriend. No, he hadn’t. He wasn’t looking. Because in the short span of living with him, Ryan had come to realize how much he cared for his friend. Even simple things, like sitting in this backyard under the stars, brought him more happiness than he’d ever experienced with Claire. But now he was more stunned than anything else, and even more so at Paul’s next question.</p><p>“What does it taste like?”</p><p>A row of empty beer bottles were between the chairs. Paul was totally drunk, slurring words and unable to focus, but Ryan played along. </p><p>“How would I know? I can’t exactly fold myself in half to taste it.”</p><p>Paul tipped his chin toward Ryan’s bulge. “Why don’t I find out?”</p><p>The offer was hard to refuse, but it reminded Ryan of when he’d been drunk at his apartment. Paul hadn’t taken advantage of his intoxication, so he shouldn’t either.</p><p>“Remember when you told me to sleep it off?”</p><p>Paul flapped a hand dismissively. “I promise not to puke on your dick.”</p><p>When Ryan opened his mouth to protest, he was silenced with warm lips pressing against his own. It lasted only a second, but it left him in a daze, unable to do anything except stare at Paul’s grinning face. </p><p>“Man, your expression is priceless. I gotta do that more often.”</p><p>He stood up, swaying a bit, the sight making Ryan regret this all over again. Paul wasn’t going to remember this in the morning, but Ryan wasn’t nearly drunk enough to have that luxury. He took the last sip of beer and lined it up with the others while Paul knelt between his legs. There were still a few bottles left in the case, tempting Ryan to have another. Or three. </p><p>“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” Paul’s expression turned solemn. “It’s been a rough summer, so let’s just enjoy the rest.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s just... I think I’d like this better if you weren’t drunk. And what if the neighbors see?”</p><p>Another hand flap. “Oh c'mon, they’re not gonna see over the fences.”</p><p>Ryan pointed at the rear houses in the distance. The upper floors would provide a great view of a guy kneeling between another guy’s legs. “And what about them?”</p><p>Paul winked. “We’ll have to give them a good show.”</p><p>“God...” </p><p>Ryan leaned back and groaned, wanting that beer more than ever, and Paul simply chuckled with not a care in the world. It would be nice to share his complete lack of self-consciousness. He unzipped Ryan’s jeans and pulled out his half-hard dick, exposing it to the warm air. The hardness was a surprising revelation given the circumstances. Maybe it was from the thrill of potentially being caught and branded as a pervert by the neighbors. A few strokes later, Ryan had a full-fledged boner that was aching to feel what Paul had offered.</p><p>“Y’know, I sucked a few dicks back in college. Most of them tasted pretty nasty.”</p><p>It was Ryan’s turn to chuckle. “Well, I did take a shower before coming outside.”</p><p>Paul smiled as he lowered his head. It had been almost a year since Ryan had gotten a blowjob, and he still couldn’t believe this was happening. His friend—no, his best friend, who he'd spent many long nights fantasizing about—was going to suck his dick. The hot breaths sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, and he had to fight to keep himself quiet when Paul’s lips wrapped around the first inch. He clenched his hands on his thighs, resisting the urge to pull him further down and feel more heat and wetness.</p><p>With teasing slowness, Paul focused on the tip, his tongue sliding back and forth along the underside while he stroked the lower half. The wet pops sounded so loud that Ryan was sure the neighbors would hear, but he was past the point of caring. All that mattered was the building pressure, hungry for release, each suck bringing him closer to blowing his load. He needed more, barely able to tolerate the pace, his hands creeping toward Paul's bobbing head. This was almost torture and Paul knew it, pausing every so often to look at Ryan's flushed face and listen to his labored breathing. But this was also something to be enjoyed, Ryan reminded himself, and not a race to the finish line. He gripped the arms of the chair instead, letting Paul control the speed and depth, despite the craving to fuck his mouth. </p><p>Finally the teasing stopped and Paul took the rest, shifting his hand to the tent in his jeans. He was actually getting hard from this, eyes half-closed from the pleasure of sucking a dick, the occasional muffled groan escaping him. It couldn’t taste that bad. Ryan chuckled again, breathlessly, the sound going unnoticed by Paul as he established a steady rhythm with one goal in mind. This was much better, not an inch spared from the smooth slide of his tongue and the wet heat of his mouth. It was hypnotic to watch the full length appear, glistening with spit, and then disappear. For once, Ryan was glad to be average-sized. </p><p>True to his word, Paul didn’t puke or even gag, though his eyes did widen when cum began to spurt down his throat. He went still, lips wrapped tightly around the base, swallowing the entirety of the load while Ryan panted as if he'd just ran a mile. After the final pulse, Paul pulled back with another groan, watching Ryan's dick spring free. It took a few seconds for Ryan to catch his breath enough to speak.</p><p>“So how... how did it taste?”</p><p>Paul made a face of mock disgust and wiped his mouth vigorously with the back of his hand, leaving his prominent boner in plain sight. “Nastiest dick ever. You sure you took a shower?”</p><p>Ryan grinned. “Give me a break. You loved it.”</p><p>“Okay, okay, maybe the second-nastiest dick.” Paul stood up and gestured to the back door. “C’mon, let’s head inside. You owe me for this.”</p><p>“Yeah, I think I can repay the favor.”</p><p>Ryan tucked his softening dick into his jeans and then followed him inside, unable to keep the smile off his face. He would never forget about Claire, and the guilt wouldn’t be going away anytime soon. But right now, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.</p>
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